


The Lord Trieth the Hearts

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood, Blood As Lube, Destiel (mentioned), Episode: s15e05 Proverbs 17:3, F/M, Pedophilia mention, Season/Series 15, Season/Series 15 Spoilers, Torture, Vaginal Sex, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-12 22:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21484171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: Dean does all he can to keep Lilith away from the Equalizer, and to keep her from hurting Sam. God's newest plan may have fallen apart, but still there is no mercy left to be found. (Takes place during 15x05 "Proverbs 17:3")
Relationships: Lilith/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18





	The Lord Trieth the Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> The latest episode fed me with so many dark things. Might write another story, and then another one after that. Oh, I had a good time. Dean does not. He has a terrible time. This is awful. Also, Dean has some misconceptions about male rape in here, which is not a reflection of how I think and feel about it. Every person's trauma is valid no matter their gender.

Bleeding from four wounds wasn’t enough to slow Dean down just yet, but Lilith had her finger raised, ready to slice again. Some part of him trembled, terrified, but he had to withstand this, for Sam. Oh god, his brother was passed out on the floor back at the cabin, no idea where Dean was. And Dean… Dean was with the mother of demons.

Lilith was smiling, showing her teeth, like she wanted to bite him.

“Come on, Dean, you know where your gun is.”

Her eyes traveled lower, and then she came forward. Dean took a step back. Blood trickled down his abdomen, wet and sticky, and was soaked up by his shirt.

“Or did you lie to me? You know what lying gets you. I can keep doing this, cutting you. Or I do have those… other needs I spoke of.”

Dean’s inhale was shaky, and she blurred in his vision. Tears. God damn tears.

“I have plenty of time too. As long as I get the gun, and don’t kill God’s favorite little sex dolls, well, I can do what I want to you. You’re more fun than Sam, aren’t you?”

Her finger was lowered now, but she charged forward and shoved him back. The nightstand jammed against him, and the lamp was knocked over, glass shattering, but the light was still holding on to life. She gripped his face with one hand, clasping hard at his chin and jaw. Dean wanted to struggle, but he feared that if he did this tenuous agreement he had with her, or whatever it was, would fail, and she would go back and hurt Sam. He had to let her enjoy herself, or keep her distracted, do something so she couldn’t get the gun.

This was what it had to be.

“His lips are nice and his taste runs more towards demon, but you just fall for the pretty victim, don’t you?” Her other hand was traveling against him, none too gentle, feeling over his wounds, and then grasping at his crotch. Dean looked up, unable to meet her gaze, and he breathed in hard. His nostrils flared, and he bared his teeth at her. “And Sammy’s gone a bit dry, hasn’t he? Doesn’t really need to empty his gun anymore. Too much time in Hell can do that to a man. But you, you’re a big boy, aren’t you? You still like bodies grinding, and writhing, and touching, Dean, don’t you?”

“Do we really have to do the dirty talking?” Dean asked, voice nearly a growl. “How about we just screw and then you keep on torturing me, okay?”

Lilith surprisingly backed off, and Dean shuffled away towards the corner, which unfortunately happened to be closer to one of the beds, but he wanted nothing to do with her. He held his arm against his side, wincing, putting pressure on one of his wounds. He hoped she hadn’t cut too deep.

“I don’t like my job here. But I have to do it.”

“Then do it, bitch.”

Really, Dean didn’t know what to do at this point. The Equalizer was in the Impala, he was all alone, surely had no way of fighting against her. And God… Chuck…

No, no. He couldn’t think about that.

“Where’s the gun?”

“Why don’t you choke on my dick?”

“Oh, mean words, Dean,” she said with a pout, reminding him very much of a small child. “Did you kiss your mommy with that mouth?”

He shrugged, tilting his head, burying all of himself as much as he could beneath stone-cold steel. “My mommy’s dead. Died the first time around for God’s stupid plan, and died the second time around for God’s stupid plan take two. So what is this, take three? Take four? Just get off using Dean’s dick, huh?”

“You’ll get off too.”

He forced a laugh. “Yeah, that’ll be fun. Real fun.” He turned, examining the bed. Well, the mattress hadn’t been too bad, and the quilt was comfortable enough to lay on. Maybe that was all he could ask for.

For Sam.

He clenched his jaw, and every muscle along his back drew taut. Fuck, this was all wrong.

Lilith was coming closer, and the hair on the back of his neck was on end.

“Better tie me up,” he told her, a tear sliding free, and rolling down his cheek. His stomach churned, and his legs went numb. For a moment, Dean had to rest his fists on the bed, hold himself up so he wouldn’t fall. “I don’t go down easy.”

Lilith ran a hand through his hair, making him growl, and then she bit the top of his ear. His instincts told him to run, but just as he even began to turn to slam her to the floor, a hand around her throat, he was frozen.

Her doing.

She patted his ass.

“Now, now. Be a good boy.”

And then she left to wherever a demon went to get rope. Dean was frozen like that, his skin tingling, body wanting to twitch, where she’d touched him feeling wrong. He wanted to squirm. Saliva was filling up his mouth, his head spun.

_You got this, Dean,_ he told himself. _You sold yourself before. Meg kissed you, Crowley was interested, plenty of people have touched you._

_Yeah, it’ll be fine._

“It’s just sex,” he murmured to himself. “It’s just sex. Sex ain’t gonna hurt ya. Nope. Be a man about this, Dean.”

He growled at himself, a rumbling noise from his chest, trying to tell himself to man up, to not be a baby about it all.

Since when was he scared of getting his dick wet? Of being with someone? It wasn’t scary, was it? So he was going to be in someone when he didn’t want to be, feeling things he didn’t want. So what? Might even be naked. So what?

Not like he was a woman. They surely had it worse.

Right?

But touching, skin against skin, hot bodies, warm breaths, slick with fluids and sweat… when it was unwanted. It seemed sickening.

God, maybe it didn’t matter that he was a man.

Already in his head Dean was picturing it. He was screaming shrill and high-pitched in his mind, Lilith merciless on him, leaving him bruised and bleeding even while she used him.

He could deal with the bruises and the bleeding.

That was his life.

That’d been Hell.

It was his job.

And sometimes sex was part of life, or part of the reward, part of the threat too.

He just hadn’t realized it would hit him like this. It’d been a year or two since a monster had wanted him for this.

_Gotta love those demonic booty calls._

“I’m back!” Lilith announced, holding rope over her shoulder.

Dean found that he could hang his head, as she’d released him. More saliva built up in his mouth, and he fell forward. He ended up turning, tilting and catching himself on the floor, one knee up, leaning against the bed.

God, he felt sick.

“The gun, Dean?”

“Up your butt and around the corner,” he got out, voice weak.

The vague idea of fucking her with a gun, or something like it came to mind. Yeah, just doing something violent to her would be nice, before she could do it to him. She was a demon, after all. What more did she deserve if not her own punishments? But if she failed, what would Chuck do to her? Use her as a chew toy? A stress ball, a pin cushion, something he could just break?

Now Dean looked at her and almost felt sympathy. Almost. But not quite.

“You really don’t like being back, do you?” Dean said as she helped him up, and then laid him down on the bed.

She set to tying his wrists to the headboard.

“No, it’s all wrong.”

“Then don’t do it.”

“Don’t use my enemy as a personal slave even though he helped kill the boss I truly cared for, and set Chuck on this temper tantrum that ended up screwing me in the process? Sorry, but I think I deserve my pound of flesh.”

Lilith tugged his boots off, not being kind, which tugged his ankles the wrong way. Nothing cracked, but they were aching, and would probably bruise later. They just twinged now, body letting him know that he’d been handled incorrectly. Socks came next, and then his ankles were restrained.

Dean lay his head back, breathing hard, sweating. Oh fuck, this was real.

Lilith was on him now, and she was doing intricate things with her hands that reminded him of watching the legs of spiders moving. And his clothes were slipping away, being cut off of him, and blood welled up on his skin, pain pricking and burning through him.

So she was still enjoying slicing up his skin then.

Dean groaned, and started puffing air out hard when she waved her hand and the remnants of his clothes were pushed aside.

“Oh, so you do have a big gun,” she commented.

“Fuck off,” he snarled.

“Hmm, you wouldn’t want me to. I’d just go to Sam. Sure he’s still all sleepy. Why is that, huh? You got right up after that blast. But oh no, what’s wrong with baby brother?”

“Don’t talk about him! And if you even think about going near him...”

“Ugh.” Lilith shifted, got off of him, and started taking off her clothes, very matter of fact. “You’ll what?” she asked. “Get your big blade up and poke me with it?” She shed the shirt, and then sat down on the floor to work on the boots and socks. “Oh Satan, Ashley had the worst fashion sense. Great hair, terrible clothes. Not like you dress any better. You’d look scrumptious in leather. But I suppose you wear the flannel to look like your daddy. Huh, God would like that, wouldn’t he? Loyalty to the father. He should just give up and put you in some damn leather already.”

Dean had no idea how to respond to any of that, but wanted to keep her talking longer, wanted to stall this. He couldn’t help looking as she stood now, taking the rest of her clothes off.

“And uh… what would you want to wear?”

Lilith was just in her undergarments, nothing fancy, which made sense given how Ashley had been. Just a recent college graduate who didn’t know what to do with her life, and probably was more focused on a career than sleeping with someone.

She smiled, brushing her hair aside. “A child, maybe. Adults get so confused when children start doing bloody things. And Azazel agreed with me that children are more… fun.”

Dean groaned, face scrunching up with disgust.

“Sorry I asked.”

“But you like Ashley’s body, don’t you?”

She undid the clasp on the back of the bra, teased him about taking it off, and Dean wasn’t hard. He was sweating, feeling clammy, cold and hot.

“She’s curvy. And you like blondes… I think. I didn’t get to know you so well.”

Dean looked up at the ceiling, and muttered, “Well, here’s your chance.”

And she wasn’t totally wrong. He did like blondes, and brunettes, and redheads. He just liked women. And he liked tall, dark, and handsome too. Bright eyes.

God, he was an idiot.

When he could’ve had someone to help him, someone he… someone he god damn loved… he’d fucked it up.

_Cas, I need you._

The prayer was surely futile.

Lilith could tell that the undressing wasn’t doing it for Dean, so she quickly finished and then got back on him, straddling him, and he groaned from feeling her soaking wet folds slide over his balls and the base of his cock. She was stroking him, trying to bring life to a part of him that he wanted to stay pretty limp and lifeless at the moment.

Dean knew this was for Sam, knew he couldn’t let her get the gun. He knew all the intricacies involved in this, yet he still started pulling on the restraints when he felt pressure in his pelvis. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

He breathed out hard through gritted teeth, spit flying past his lips, and Lilith was laughing. She was grinding against him, making his balls fill. Oh god.

Fucking body. Fucking Chuck.

The ropes chafed at his skin, digging in, till they were red, itchy, scraped, and nearly bleeding.

Lilith leaned over, enjoying him with her mouth, playing with his nipples. Yet another thing Dean was going to have to kill God over. Men having nipples. What was the fucking point? And people not having control over their own sexual pleasure. What was with that too? Did God get off to real-life non-con or something?

What a perv.

Rape fantasies were all well and good. Dean had had a few himself, had acted some out with willing partners, but God running the show and inventing things that just made the experience worse? How could he? Why? Was this all some type of sick porn to him?

At least porn was acting.

This was Dean’s life!

His nipples were in hard, sensitized nubs now, and each pull of her teeth at either of them sent a jolt of pleasure down to where she was so eagerly stroking him.

One hand was against his ribs, and her nails began to dig in, drawing blood.

Dean cried out, and she murmured for him to be quiet, kissing his neck, before licking up to his face. She lapped at the cut she’d left on the right side of his cheek, and he turned his head away, pulling at the restraints again, trying to at least lift his knees up, to do something. It made her fall forward a bit, grinding against his cock more, and he grunted. His head fell back at the sudden pressure, and she giggled.

Lilith pulled her nails from his side, sat up, and then licked at her fingers, eyeing him as she did so. Dean just breathed hard, lips parted.

“Do I taste good?” he asked, partially as a joke. Or at least, he thought maybe it was.

After all, this was what his life had come to. What was serious anyway? What was reality?

Anything could happen, really.

It didn’t matter.

“Perfect.” She smiled, cheeks round and cute, and her tongue came out to lick her lips.

Dean twitched in between his legs. God damn it, did his body _have_ to pay attention to the fact that there was a woman on him? Yes, she had lovely hips, and a nice bit of fat on her thighs that made them all cushiony and it’d be nice to just rub his dick along them, and— oh god, did she really have to hang her breasts in his face like that, her hair falling down? Her tummy was cute too. He just loved that curve that all women had on their abdomens, that little bump that said, “Hey, I have reproductive organs.” And to Dean’s body at the moment it was saying, “Hi, I’d love to fuck you.” And his dick definitely liked the idea.

She was flicking the head of his cock now, and Dean could barely breathe, was just getting in inhales that barely filled his lungs. Air would get into him, and then, _flick!_, and pain would cascade around the head, and down his shaft; a startling thump accompanied by the sharpness of her nail. It was starting to ache, burn. It was like walls were closing in around his lungs, like he couldn’t get enough air in, breathe properly, body too startled by pain.

“Oh, baby, that’s hardly anything.”

With the next thing she did, Dean screamed.

He didn’t know what she’d done, but agony flared up to his stomach, and bile had risen in his mouth. He had his head to the side, his breath hitching, abdomen spasming. His cock was throbbing, and his body was trying to curl up, protect itself. She did that _thing_ again, and all he could imagine was flares of angry red, and pulsing agony, and there was wet heat.

Dean’s stomach heaved, and sick dribbled out of his mouth, onto the pillow. The sour stench had his nose crinkling.

She was pumping him now, and he jerked, let out a guttural cry, spit, and then drool was falling away from his lips.

Dean came to himself enough to look down, to see the damage, and she’d cut him, two neat lines on either side of the shaft, running from the base, all the way up to the ridge of the head, and he was bleeding heavily. Her hand was already coated in red, and it slid down into his pubic hair.

“Blood as lube,” he groaned. “You know, just ‘cause you’re a demon… doesn’t mean you have to be so edgy.”

“Lingchi, Dean. Lingchi.”

“Maybe I didn’t lie.”

“You and I both know that pretty mouth of yours isn’t telling the truth. And it is really very pretty.”

“Well I just threw up in it a bit more, so maybe not,” Dean said, trying to deter her, draw her thoughts away from wherever they were going. 

He did not want to get kissed by her again, and certainly did not want to suddenly be smothered by demonic pussy as he was forced to eat her out, though he was sure his body would react with delight at the smell of her.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m not all lovey dovey like you humans are who like to have the long minutes of foreplay, the oral sex, the lube, the making sure the other person’s okay. I just like to use a man for what he’s for.”

Lilith lifted herself up at that, and Dean found that he was trembling, hips lowering, pushing against the mattress, trying to pull away. She sliced into his neck at that, down past his collarbone, across his chest, and to his diaphragm. He screamed, was too busy with the pain to do anything as she grabbed him and slid herself onto him, quick and hard. Surely her vessel tore from that, or hurt in some way.

Lilith grunted, growling at him, and Dean whimpered as she slid down all the way, and started rocking her hips. God, she was so hot, and wet, and tight, and oh, his body was lifting up into her. His mouth opened in a moan, head tilting back, eyes squeezed shut. He pulled at the restraints now, but not to get away. Maybe to hold her, or to grasp something.

Oh, _fuck_.

He was really deep in there.

Oh. _Oh_, she was on him, he was in her.

Oh god. _Oh god._

Dean started shivering from pleasure, his toes curled, and she flashed her teeth at him. She put up her finger, and sliced. Dean tensed, tasting blood as it bubbled past his teeth and onto his tongue from his now-split lip.

Lilith was riding him now, hands on his chest, nails digging, and did she really have to tighten herself around him like that? Oh _god_, she was just squeezing and squeezing and squeezing, and his cuts twinged, but she was soft inside.

She went hard, fast, the bed squeaking and rattling, banging into the wall, and Dean was whimpering and whining, upset that such undignified sounds were coming out of him. God, he wanted her to stop To stop, get off, get herself off well away from him, keep her damn nails out of him, stop making him bleed everywhere, and oh _god_, was that his blood or her blood that was pooling on his pelvis now Surely she was driving her vessel too hard. Dean was not an easy man to take.

He slipped out of her, one of the bounces on him going too high, and then she was breathing hard, letting out a dark, lusty laugh, pleased to hell and back. Now she was turning herself around, putting him somewhere else. And god, Dean did like being there too sometimes, loved when a woman got all animalistic from having his dick in their ass, but god, _really?_

“Oh fuck!” he cried.

“What was that?” she said, cupping a hand behind her ear, tilting her head back to him, but rubbing her ass all along his soaking wet and swollen cock. “An exclamation! Does that mean you want to say something else? Something like” — she adopted a pathetic, high-pitched, mewling sort of voice — “no, no, please, Lilith, stop! Stop, _stop!_” She giggled, rubbed herself against him particularly hard. A human woman might’ve brought her hand down to play with her clit, but she seemed to just be getting pleasure from using him like this. Besides, like this now, he could see her entrance, and it was swollen, blood trickling out of it. She’d gone too hard. Oh, thank god the vessel was dead. The poor girl didn’t need this. “You say that, and maybe Sammy gets some of this too.” She tilted her head to the bed next to them, the one she’d previously chosen as her own when Dean had thought she was Ashley. “Right over there. I’m sure he’ll be here soon, and there’s nothing either of you can do.” She started easing herself onto him, and Dean growled. She was even tighter here, and her insides swallowed him. “So where’s the gun, Dean?” she asked as each inch buried into her. 

She wasn’t even fazed as her body seemed to split open over him, as skin tore. She just tilted her head, beautiful hair trailing down her bloodied back, and let out a guttural moan.

Now she did play with herself as she fucked him, and fucked him hard. He was too busy staring up at the ceiling to see what she was doing with her hands, but she was loud, and he felt something pressing against him, as if she was forcefully toying with her vagina. Were demons all just fucked up little masochists? Or was she doing this because she knew he had felt for Ashley’s situation?

And now he was watching her body get ruined, using his body.

Lilith’s legs were tightening around him, so much so that he feared one of his hips might suddenly give out a pop or crack, and he’d bruise, and that his thighs would have the marks of her legs for days. And then she was grinding down hard on him. Wet flesh hugged at his cock rhythmically, and her breaths came fast and shallow, her voice in them. Dean thought maybe she’d be weaker in this moment, so he tried the ropes again, but Lilith shot a hand back, fingers curled, and it was as if a crown of nails had been drilled into his head, then chained down, keeping him there. Blood flowed from his scalp, and he was screaming.

Without giving her body a chance to calm down he was back in her pussy, and he reached deeper with her facing away from him. Fuck, was that her cervix he was hitting?

Oh, his cock was aching with arousal. But he was barely aware of anything else now, just the agony in his head, the way his insides burned with liquid fire, his stomach flipping with excitement, making him lightheaded, his toes curling, the pressure just beneath his balls.

Dean was whimpering by the time Lilith was facing him again, smearing blood from in between her legs on his lips and into his mouth.

He tried to spit it out, but it dribbled down his chin, and onto his cheek. Some of it dripped into his ear, and he tried to shake his head to clear it, but she grabbed him, holding him firm. Her other hand had his balls, squeezing them too hard. Oh no, he was going to be sick again.

“Lil… Lilith…” Dean sputtered. “Lil…”

“Gun.”

“Uunggh. Lil… Gggthrrr…”

Dean didn’t know what he was trying to say, just wanted her to let go, wanted the ropes to be free, wanted to fucking throw up in peace.

His eyes rolled back in his head when he was in her again, right where he’d been when this had started. The position made her have to relinquish her vise on his balls. She was climaxing on him, all wet and tight and trembly, and in a minute it was happening once more, and his body still wasn’t giving it up. Maybe the pain was too much.

Dean wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. Just knew he had to keep her away from the Equalizer, away from Sammy.

But whether he came or not? He didn’t know if that mattered. What she used him for next, it would just happen, whether he wanted it to or not.

His head rolled to the side when she let go of him, and then she was biting along his neck. Some part of Dean reacted, tears flowing from his eyes into his hair, joining sweat and blood.

A grunt left him as another slice was added to his torso, and another. He didn’t doubt that Lilith was keeping count. She left one closer to his pelvis.

_Cas…_

But no Cas.

Dean had taken him for granted, had turned him away, had acted like he didn’t love him, had hurt him, had done every cruel thing he could’ve possibly done. He was a monster.

So this was being done to him.

He’d fucked up.

No Cas.

Of course he wasn’t here to save him like he always had been.

He’d always been there for him, always the knight in shining armor, the hero, and then what had Dean done?

He’d blamed him, he’d yelled at him, he hadn’t believed in him, he’d told him he was the bad thing.

Dean was the bad thing.

Dean was the fucked up thing.

_Cas, I’m sorry._

He didn’t need him to come back.

No, he didn’t need him to come back. He hoped wherever he was he was happy, that some demon brought back by Chuck didn’t have him tied to a bed, that they weren’t raping him.

That he wasn’t even fighting monsters. That he was fucking happy.

Dean just wanted him to know.

_Cas…_

Sensation burned and surged through Dean, pressure taking over his gut, but black spots were sparking in his vision. Lilith grabbed his head, and slammed it down hard, pulling tendons in his neck, and temporarily jolting him out of his stupor.

“Where’s the gun, my little boy toy?”

Dean blinked at her, beautiful face, blonde hair floating in his vision. Black was coming upon him again. 

“Cas…” he murmured.

“That little shit for an angel does not have it. You’re lying.

“Cas…”

She threw his head back, and then set to fucking him again. And this time he finished, Lilith slicing into his arms as his exhausted body came.

Afterwards, he took in hitching breaths, Lilith lying on him, continuing to cut, other fingers gently caressing.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, letting his eyes slide closed.

“No, honey. Where’s the gun?”

The door broke, wood splintering as it was banged open, and a large mass entered, a strong, familiar presence filling the doorway.

“Right friggin’ here,” Sam answered.

The suddenness of it all startled Dean, but he hardly had the energy to react. Lilith was off him in an instant, surely gloating to Sam with all her naked glory.

A bang, but she didn’t go down. And neither did Sam.

Opening his eyes he saw the hole in her head, saw her confusion as she tried to move, saw the gun Sam was holding.

A devil’s trap bullet.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief that his brother was alive… for now.

But there was some squelching noises, metal clattering against wood, and then a blast of power.

Dean knew no more.

When he came to the ropes were undone, and Sam was holding him from behind, had him sitting up. There was a blanket over his lap.

“Sammy,” Dean breathed, clutching at his arm. “You okay?” he asked, voice a rough.

“Lilith got the gun.”

“We’ll… We’ll get it back.”

“It’s gone. She destroyed it.”

“And God’s not gone.”

“God’s not gone.”

They sat there, holding each other, the blanket and Sam’s clothes soaking up Dean’s blood, and Sam said nothing about what had happened to Dean, not hating him, not shaming him, just somehow knowing, just being there.

“Sammy, what do we do?”

“We fight God. We rule our lives.”

“_How?_”

Sam just pulled Dean closer.

The broken lamp from earlier finally sputtered out in white and blue sparks, leaving them in shadows. Wind blowing through an open window slammed the busted open door shut. It clacked and creaked, the splintered wood squeaking against plaster. The curtains blew. Sam’s tears dripped onto Dean’s forehead.

It was dark.


End file.
